Editorial: The Human Condition
One of my favorite movies growing up was The Lion King. The goofy parts were right up my alley. The profound and sad parts captured my attention. A scene that was permanently engraved on my mind is the wildebeests in the valley and the death of Mufasa. One could focus on Scar’s evil deeds, for there is much to be unpacked. What I will always remember is Simba’s reaction: the helpless sadness of a cub who loved his dad deeply, but couldn’t do anything to save him.
I’ve been relating to that helpless sadness quite a bit in recent weeks. Certainly, the joy of reuniting with friends and beginning another year of seminary has been visceral. But I have also felt every mile of distance between Wilmore and western New York because my parents are in pain.
I feel too young to be this concerned about my parents’ health. They probably feel too young to be suffering as they are. Surgeries and tests go on, and all I can do is pray for them and care from afar.
Praise the Lord, surgeons patched up my dad’s ailments. They knew what’s wrong with him, but unfortunately, that’s not the case with my mom. She’s been dealing with inexplicable breathing issues, and they’re still not sure what it is. The uncertainty is unnerving.
There are few things that feel as vulnerable and uncertain as a parent experiencing health trouble. In new ways, we face the ugly reality of the human condition. The earliest memories of our parents are typically when they are in the prime of life, and any health issues are minor. Part of growing up is seeing loved ones bravely march toward the first death and coming to terms with our own mortality.
As much as our culture tries to mask aging and marginalize the dying, death is one thing that doesn’t discriminate. What is even more certain than death, though, is God’s faithful, steadfast love. Because of Emmanuel, we can face deterioration and death with great hope. When the diagnosis isn’t favorable, we can still say (perhaps through tears) with the communion of saints, “I believe in the resurrection of the body and the life everlasting.”
I’m still on the journey of surrendering my worry to the Lord. Unlike little Simba, I know that even when there’s nothing I can do, God can do anything. He might not do what I want Him to do, but it is my prayer that He might be glorified no matter what. May the God of all comfort be your constant friend in the darkest valley, and may the One who rose again be your hope and joy in all circumstances.
This article is by Julia Hotchkiss, Alumni Office Student Worker.
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